VALE OF EDEYRNION.
The mountains here, upon either side, are covered with plantations, and the beautiful Dee winds gracefully in the centre of the valley, through delightful meadows, while corn fields wave upon the sloping banks, and everything presents to the eye the appearance of freshness and fertility, cheerfulness and content. At the bridge near Llandderfel, a small village, which is first observed upon the opposite bank of the Dee, a splendid view presents itself. The river here is broad, shallow, and deep, by turns, and looking up or down the vale, its meandering sportiveness charms the eye. At the extremity of the valley is a lofty mountain, planted to the summit, which seems so closely to envelop it, as to prevent all egress. To stand upon this bridge at sunset, and listen to the whistle of the sheep boy as he trudges merrily along the road, the song of the husbandman, or the joyous laugh of the milkmaids—sounds that float upon the silent air for miles, at such an hour,—the twittering of the birds, before they hide their heads beneath their wings to seek repose—the low craik of the rail, amidst the corn—and sweeter than all, the music of the river, discharging liquid sounds from its transparent bosom,—creates a sensation which we are at a loss how to express. Excess of pleasure becomes painful; and, overpowered with delight, nature asserts her influence, and we experience the luxury of tears!—at least, I did, and I pity from my soul the man who is unfortunately incapable of a similar feeling.
Passing through the little village of Llanver, and crossing a stream over the bridge close by the lodge of Mr. Price of Rhewlas, I at length arrived at the Bull’s Head in the town, to which house I had been recommended by a passing traveller; and, tired with my day’s exertions, called for a tea-dinner and slippers.